Worth
by ackeberlynn
Summary: One-shot. My take on Gaila's story.


**Author's note**: One-shot. Lots of analogies. Lots of angst. Some mature subject matter, but nothing graphic. Rated T to be safe.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but the story itself.

I was really hesitant about posting this. It came to me over the weekend. Feedback would be greatly appreciated. Also, I promise to get back to my other story—the lack of reviews for chapter 8 of "Lean on Me" has correlated with a lack of desire to write.

But anywho, please tell me what you think, as I have never posted this kind of story before.

* * *

**_"There are two trees, each yielding its own fruit. One of them is negative . . . it grows from lack of self-worth and its fruits are fear, anger, envy, bitterness, sorrow - and any other negative emotion. Then there is the tree of positive emotions. Its nutrients include self-forgiveness and a correct self concept. _****_Its fruits are love, joy, acceptance, self-esteem, faith, peace . . . and other uplifting emotions." -Kathi's Garden_**

* * *

Gaila is a warrior.

Appearances are deceiving, and no one could ever guess how hard she fought all her life, and how hard she continues to fight.

It is not a visible battle.

The wins and losses, the strategies and the scars, are only known to her.

She is a one-woman soldier fighting alone amidst multiple fronts and many adversaries, all of them unseen except to her.

In her mind's eye she pictures herself clad in the leather and chain mail armor of her people's ancestors, long, tangled red hair flowing down past her shoulders. A vorpal sword, its blade heavy and thick, is held out in front of her, both hands tightly gripping its hilt.

She knows enough by now to recognize the triggers, and has learned how to steel herself for battle.

She also is vaguely aware of the origin of the trouble—a root-system of a poisoned tree, the limbs of which threaten to choke her. Hacking off one limb meant that another would eventually grow in its place, and though she has become adept at swiftly eliminating such enemies, she knows that the war will never end unless she can exterminate the source.

Ah, the source.

The roots go deep. Gnarled furrows in the fertile ground that is her very soul.

* * *

**_"The beauty of the world has two edges, one of laughter, one of anguish, cutting the heart asunder." -Virginia Woolf_**

* * *

As a child of the Orion race, imagination had been encouraged. Personal autonomy, spontaneity, and conviviality were also instilled in her as values in a culture that reveres its people's lack of inhibitions.

Orions are a visually-oriented, corporeally-focused peoples. As such, a female's worth is based on her external beauty and ability to seduce. Similarly, worth for an Orion male is determined based on desirability, that is, the number of willing breeding partners. A female Orion spends her post-puberty years seducing and bedding with multiple partners until she finds one "desirable" enough with which to breed. Because of this, marriages or civil unions are unheard of on Orion.

Indeed, Orion society has no need for last names, though Orion breeders take great care in giving their newborns the most unique first names. After birth, Orion children are raised communally in child and learning centers until they come of age.

Gaila has often heard humans borrow an old-Earth expression to refer to young Orions, calling them 'flower children'.

She likes the term, for it appeals to the free-spirited nature of her people.

Orions grow up with no sense of 'family', as Earth-people call it. Gaila was a product of successful breeding; that was all. And, had she spent all of her child on Orion with her people, she would have been content with such a life, probably becoming a participant in the "recreational" industry as was expected of most lower-class Orion females.

However, Gaila had not been raised on Orion.

She knows enough about her history to know that her female progenitor was named Gevaliana, a lower-class Orion who'd worked in the slave trade business. She would often take Gaila along on her inter-planetary travels, leaving the young girl alone in a hotel room while she conducted business elsewhere.

Gaila remembers passing the hours by imagining stories in her head, of different worlds and different peoples, of stars and oceans and other fantastical wonders.

She loved traveling around with Gevaliana, and had the opportunity to see many new and exciting things.

The universe was full of wonders, and Gaila took in everything with wide eyes and a brilliant imagination.

Until one day, during a trip to Earth, Gevaliana never returned to the hotel.

Gaila was only 4 at the time, old enough to realize something was wrong and yet too young to understand the implications. She waited for hours, as the day turned into night and night turned into day, not knowing why tears were running down her dark green cheeks.

Generally a happy people and a pleasure-seeking race, Orions took delight in the sensualness of life—sight, touch, smell, taste. Therefore, were not often known to cry .

Yet Gaila had cried on that day.

On that day, uniformed humans had found her sobbing in her hotel room, and informed her that Gevaliana was not coming back.

She had been adopted shortly thereafter by a kind Earth-couple who insisted she call them "Mommy" and "Daddy". The terms, as with their related expectations, were foreign to Gaila. But she'd always been eager to please. So she'd quickly adapted to and adopted the language, customs, and values of her new culture.

She had grown up in the North American continent, having been adopted by a family in a small Midwestern town yet untouched by most of the modernization of the 23rd century.

Gaila's mother was a slender woman with pale, almost translucent skin, deep set blue eyes, and hair the same color as the Jamaican coffee she loved to drink.

Gaila would watch every morning, fascinated, as her mother painstakingly put on make-up and stepped into her business suite, readying for her job working in the courthouse.

Her mother was beautiful, and Gaila wanted to be just like her.

On the first day of school, Gaila had walked excitedly into her kindergarten classroom, all smiles, only to frown in confusion when one boy burst out, "Ew, she has _green_ _skin_!" She'd blushed scarlet while the rest of the students echoed similar sentiments of disgust.

After school she'd raced home, ran up to her mother's room and opened the tiny case containing her fluffy white powder, convinced in her 5-year old mind that _this_ was the key to making her beautiful like her mother.

She found that a small amount of powder was not enough to hide the color of her skin, so she began patting more and more onto her cheeks and nose, growing increasingly furious when all she had managed to do was cake copious amounts of powder on her face.

Gaila had glared at herself in the mirror. The make-up looked unnatural and cracked on her skin—she didn't look like her mother at all.

And at that moment, a seed was planted deep within Gaila's soul. The name of the seed was 'Things you are not', and it immediately sprouted two roots called 'Beautiful' and 'Wanted'.

Gaila did not know enough at that age to fight, so the roots grew deep and immovable.

She hated her green skin, so unlike that of any other human. She further hated her curly red hair, for it only seemed to further stick out as a mockery of everything that was beautiful.

So Gaila closed off a part of her heart, and moved on to other things. In middle school, she decided that if she couldn't be beautiful, she would talented, having been fascinated by her classes that taught singing, dancing, and the fine arts.

Those dreams were snuffed when she was told by one teacher that she sang off-key, by another that she had "clumsy feet", and after she received only average ratings on her various pieces of artwork.

Another root grew from the seed named 'Things you are not'. It's name was 'creative'.

Undaunted, Gaila ignored the slight from within and forged ahead to something new. She tried out for several different sports in junior high; but when she was chosen for none, another root sprouted, this one named 'athletic'.

Gaila was at a loss, for the only other thing left which she could rely on was intelligence, and Gaila knew that in this category she was nothing if she wasn't average.

She consistently brought home A's and B's, showing her report cards to her father with pride. Her father would always study the paper for a few moments, eyes narrowed in concentration. Then he would say, "Hm, looks like you'll have to work on that B in Language Lit, Gaila."

"Yes daddy," she would always reply, crestfallen but barely showing it.

Thus, by the end of high school Gaila had a score of roots growing from the seed called 'Things you are not'. She was not 'beautiful', 'creative', 'athletic', or 'intelligent'.

Then came puberty.

Her parents were human, adhering to human values which Gaila for the most part understood and accepted as her own. However she was very much of the Orion blood, having the same desires and tendencies as any other young female Orion.

Gaila did not understand why, once she became a teenager, her parents would not allow her to date, or attend parties, or stay out late with the few friends she had.

Being young and indignant, she attributed her isolation to the root named 'wanted', which of course only made it worse. Out of all of the things she was not—'wanted' hurt the most of all.

Her mother had finally sat her down and gave her 'the talk'. About pheromones and sex and manipulation. About the differences between males and females, humans and Orions.

Gaila was told that she was different, and because of that, she had to be careful.

All Gaila wanted was to be accepted. She didn't want to be different or careful. It was bad enough that her green tinted skin made her look ugly. Orion women were known for their curves, yet human males seemed only to be attracted to tall, thin females.

She was not wanted anyway, so what did it matter?

Bitterness in the form of craggily limbs burgeoned in her soul.

* * *

_**"All kinds of beauty do not inspire love; there is a kind which only pleases the sight, but does not captivate the affections." - Cervantes

* * *

  
**_

Gaila fought hard to get accepted into the Starfleet Academy. She'd always been in love with the stars, and this was her chance to be among them. Yet her odds of becoming a member of Starfleet were slim to none, she was sure. After all, she didn't have the best scores. Nor did she possess some amazing talent or skill.

She was, as she was firmly convinced, a most unremarkable woman in every respect.

Opening the acceptance letter containing the Starfleet insignia was, therefore, quite a surprise. She walked on air for the next three months before moving on campus when classes began.

This was her chance to prove herself. To _be somebody_. To mold herself into something she currently was not.

She began to battle internally, hacking off the limbs of roots that had been suffocating her all her life.

One limb was too painful to deal with, however. The limb stemming from the root named 'wanted'.

Gaila was desperate for someone to see worth in her, to _want_ her.

At Starfleet, she was surrounded by all kinds of different species, and no longer had to worry about not being found attractive by human males. There were suddenly a variety of fish in the sea.

So she gave in to her Orion tendencies, flaunting and flirting with any man at the academy who would look her way. Orion women had a special aura about them, a peculiar, pheromonal ability to seduce. Yet no matter how many the conquests, she was always left unsatisfied, feeling unwanted.

She'd become close friends with two people at the Academy.

There was Uhura, her best friend and roommate. Beautiful, confident, articulate Uhura, who always fretted over Gaila and her wild ways.

"Gaila, don't go out tonight," she'd pleaded once.

"Why not?" Gaila had asked, engrossed in the process of inserting an earring.

"Because," Uhura began with a sigh. "Every weekend you bring somebody new back to the dorm. It isn't right…it isn't healthy. One of these times you're really going to get yourself in trouble."

And Gaila had laughed, a high pitched tinkling sound. "You worry too much, Uhura, I'll be fine."

"I just don't think you realize what you're doing," she'd insisted, arms crossed.

Gaila had turned light green eyes to meet chocolate brown. "Look, if it helps, I won't bring any more guys back to the room, alright? Promise." Then smiled and skipped away.

Gaila's other close friend was none other than Jim Kirk.

He was both her playmate and partner-in-crime.

They had met during a study session for a physics exam. She'd been immediately attracted to his quick wit, sharp satire, and hilarious facial expressions.

When she'd one-upped him in the sarcasm department, he'd look at her with something akin to awe mixed with a mischievous grin, and a friendship was formed.

She loved spending time with him, and he would always make amusing comments just to watch the reaction she'd give in response. They had fun together, Kirk always inviting her to go out with him on the weekends.

She'd gotten pretty good at controlling her…abilities at this point. Able to seduce or not seduce at will. She'd held back with Jim though. It wasn't that she wasn't attracted to him. It was simply that he was the first guy who seemed to pay more attention to what was inside of her than outside. Such unusual attention was new to her, peaking her curiosity and speaking to some deep need within her. She didn't want him to be just another notch in the bedpost.

Yet old habits die hard, and it was only a matter of time before it happened.

She'd had a particularly rough week and was feeling pretty low. Jim invited her out for milkshakes and a movie. Just innocent fun, intended to make her feel better.

But loneliness got the better of her, and the familiar need to feel 'wanted' came over her yet again. She would seduce him before the night was through.

Jim didn't know what hit him, so intoxicated he was by her pheromones.

One thing led to another and they were back in her dorm room, barely clad and getting physical.

A small part of her felt guilty—this was Jim, her friend, and she was manipulating him, going against everything her mother had taught her.

Perhaps though, this was redeemable. Perhaps Jim 'wanted' her too?

"I love you," she blurted out suddenly from underneath him.

He hesitated, momentarily confused and unsure of how to respond. "That…is so…weird."

"What?" She demanded as the light flicked on. This was important. "You don't love me too?"

Before he could respond, she was practically shoving him under the bed to hide from Uhura, who had unexpectedly entered the room.

He had left shortly thereafter, Uhura had gone to bed, and Gaila lay there, alone fighting her inner demons.

She silently cried herself to sleep.

* * *

**_"Our motive is not to prove our self-worth, but to live up to our possibilities". -Unknown._**

* * *

The next day, late in the afternoon, Jim had confronted her in the hallway.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" She nodded, unable to meet his gaze. This was it. This was the end of her friendship with Jim.

They moved into an empty classroom, and Jim set his PADD and books down on a nearby desk.

Turning to face her, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"Gaila, I just wanted to apologize for last night."

Her head shot up in surprise. "Apologize?"

"Yeah. I was a real jerk—I don't know what came over me, I just…I'm sorry."

She blinked. "You're sorry?"

"Yeah." He bit his lip.

"Why on earth are you sorry?"

His eyes squinted at her in mild surprise.

"Because you're my friend, and I don't want to do that to you."

"Do what?"

He sighed. "When you asked me if I loved you, I was confused. I _do_ love you. But love and sex aren't the same thing. And that's why I'm glad we didn't sleep together last night. I love you too much to use you." He paused, studying her. "You're worth more than that, Gaila."

"You're forgiven," she said hastily, her eyes bright.

He stared at her intently. "Really?"

She smiled. "Mhmm."

"Okay," he said, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I'll see you at dinner." Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he picked up his books and left.

She stood there for a long while, allowing the words to sink in. Pondering. Considering.

Believing.

The seed of 'You're worth more than that' began to shine in her soul, choking out the poisonous limbs and roots, permeating the soil until it uprooted, eliminated, and replaced the seed of 'Things you are not'.

She had won the war.

Flipping her long, bouncy curls over her shoulder, she walked out of the building and into the sunlight of the day.

Funny how Jim had thought he'd been using her, when in reality she'd been seducing _him_. Didn't he know about Orion women?

Apparently not.

At any rate, she determined in her heart that she would not use her pheromones again. She _was_ worth more than that.

Despite all of the things she was not…Gaila was worth something simply because she was Gaila. Jim saw that. So did Uhura. Her parents too. They'd all tried to tell her in their own ways, she just didn't see it, couldn't accept it herself. And she'd wasted so much time and energy and emotion on throwing herself at men in an attempted to feel 'wanted'.

She _was_ wanted and loved and accepted. But she had looked for it in the wrong places, in the wrong ways.

* * *

Gaila smiles, the sun's rays glittering against her green skin.

She is an Orion. A woman. A Starfleet cadet. A warrior.

Beautiful. Wanted. Loved. Gaila. A being of great worth.

It is a good kind of feeling--a certainty.

She embraces it.

* * *

_**"How much beauty do you think is enough for a life? And how is it that one measures beauty? And how must it be wrapped, and how shall it be doled out? The truth is that we've likely lived more than our share of beauty. More than most get to live, I mean. But our portion may not be used up. Let's risk it… It's time to stop being afraid... Stop practicing for death. The only way out of the maze is to take back our life." -Marlena De Blasi**_

* * *

**Note**: "Vorpal" is a term describing a sword featured in Lewis Carroll's nonsense poem "Jabberwocky". I used it here to be a specific name for an Orion sword. "Pheromones" are special chemicals secreted by Orions in order to seduce. I read about them in a Wikipedia article. :P


End file.
